


Decay

by Hotaru_Tomoe



Series: Bullets [30]
Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, Sentimental, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29605353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hotaru_Tomoe/pseuds/Hotaru_Tomoe
Summary: Two men who fight against the impossible, two souls who find each other, a long journey towards the inevitable, the consolation of small gestures and a great love.
Relationships: Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Series: Bullets [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1372144
Comments: 11
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With this story I return to the origins, to tell about missing moments in the folds of the HBO series.  
> No alternate universe this time and, sadly, no happy ending.

A part of Valery knows it, he knows it since 7:01 am on that April 26th.

He knows that something serious has happened in Chernobyl, much more serious than what Deputy Minister Shcherbina told him.

A tank explosion cannot cause that level of radiation.

Furthermore… 3.6 roentgen is the maximum level detectable by common dosimeters; the real numbers may be different.

Part of him knows this, but he pushes these concerns to the back of his mind, because if the situation were really serious, the State, that State of which Valery Legasov is a part, of which he is an esteemed member, would mobilize and act quickly.

He is almost calm as he flips through the first two pages of Shcherbina's report, surprised at how accurate and meticulous it is.

But then he gets to page three.

And his world changes forever.

_ "A firefighter had his hand burned by a smooth black mineral." _

A smooth black mineral.

Graphite.

Fear paralyzes him, to the point that the Kremlin aide has to call him three times before he reacts.

He walks behind her in a trance, as if he were in a dream, the panic closing his larynx, making it hard for him to breathe.

He stands still, staring at the men in the room, all calm and composed, and receives another shock: they have no idea of what really happened in Chernobyl.

Contradicting Shcherbina's reassuring report, contradicting the word of the State, will have consequences, but none of them know anything, and they must know, or the tragedy that is unfolding right now, while that belated meeting is in progress, will be even more catastrophic than it already is.

It’s the last thing that Valery wants to do, he is afraid, but he does it anyway, because he has to, if he doesn’t do it, nobody will.

The consequences would be unimaginable if they didn’t act promptly.

He has no choice.

"No!"

Part of Boris isn't surprised when Legasov slams his hands on the table.

Of course, he is irritated and annoyed at being contradicted in front of Gorbachev, but not surprised, because he has understood who Valery Legasov is since their phone call a few hours earlier, during which the scientist corrected and interrupted him several times.

Legasov is a man who seems not to know, or ostentatiously ignore the functioning of politics and hierarchies.

And he continues to demonstrate this during the meeting, disputing his official report and ridiculing him.

Why? Does Legasov want to put himself in a good light? Probably, it’s something that Boris has already experienced in the past, but this time it will not work: Boris has been in this game all his life, while Legasov doesn’t even know the rules.

Legasov is just spreading hysterical alarmism, Boris is convinced of this because the State apparatuses have said so: the director of the nuclear power plant reported that the situation is under control and this is the truth of the State.

However, Legasov is so pressing that Gorbachev decides to listen to him and forces Boris to go to Chernobyl, taking the scientist with him.

However, Boris is firm in his belief that nothing serious has happened. He is convinced of this while they are on the helicopter and he asks Legasov to explain how a nuclear reactor works, he is convinced of this for the whole trip, until the scientist kneels before him, begging him not to fly over the reactor.

There his certainty begins to crack. Imperceptibly, but it does.

And then...

"Boris!"

Hearing his name opens an old wound that Boris thought was closed for decades, Valery's face overlaps that of a forgotten person, and this causes him a wave of unbelievable anger.

"Don't use my name!" he screams.

He should have thrown him off the helicopter for real, straight into the burning reactor.

Yet, despite the blind fury, Boris realizes that Legasov's terror is genuine: his eyes are wide open, his voice trembles as he pleads, he is scared like a man who knows what the truth is.

The pilot also senses that something is wrong, and follows Valery's advice, swerving abruptly.

He will kill him, Boris thinks, getting off the helicopter with an athletic jump, as soon as he gets the chance, he will kill him.

_ "We're already dead," _ Valery thinks, staring at the hideous column of black smoke escaping from the reactor.

_ "We are already dead, all of us, and it will be horrible,"  _ he says to himself, panic twisting his guts.

He watches the unsuspecting soldiers unload material and organize a camp, and everything seems surreal, almost grotesque. On the one hand, he feels the urge to run to each of them, warn them of what is happening, of the trillions of invisible bullets that are going through their bodies and damaging their cells. But on the other hand, that ignorance is a blessing: as long as they don’t know the truth, they will be able to sleep at night, they will not have the same anguish that twists their stomach.

Bryukhanov greets Shcherbina with deference and shows to be calm and sure, but Boris is well acquainted with men like him, as well as bootlickers like Fomin, and is not fooled.

When the director of the plant hands him a list of the alleged culprits, Boris knows he has been right about them: when would they ever have had the time to conduct an investigation about what happened just a few hours earlier?

No, Boris smells bullshit a mile away: that's just a list of easy scapegoats.

He can't trust those two, but he doesn't know anything about nuclear reactors, as Gorbachev rightly reminded him, he needs support, so he beckons the soldiers to bring Legasov over.

Fomin urges Legasov, asking him to explain how an RBMK reactor could explode.

Legasov has no answers, but Boris has not forgotten the terror in the scientist's eyes, and this is enough to insinuate the shadow of doubt, the doubt that this irritating man may be right.

_ Graphite. _

Legasov insisted on graphite from the very first moment, and after all he wouldn’t be the first deputy director of the Kurchatov Institute, if he didn’t know how a reactor is made and that graphite shouldn’t be scattered all around the building.

"Why did I see graphite on the roof?"

Bryukhanov’s embarrassment and Fomin’s shaky response only reinforce Boris’ doubts.

Burnt concrete? He has seen concrete in his life and that is not burnt concrete.

His judgment of Legasov begins to change.

The scientist might be right for real.

_ "Only stupid people don't change their minds." _

Valery doesn't remember where he heard this aphorism, but it's true.

And it’s at this very moment that his judgment on Boris Shcherbina begins to change.

He hastily judged him like a bureaucrat who was in charge of something he didn't understand. Sure, an intelligent man, even intuitive, so much so that he understood his metaphor of bullets, but still a bureaucrat, more inclined to blindly follow the party orders than to listen to science and the truth of the facts.

But now Shcherbina is using what Valery explained to him to test Fomin's version of events.

Indeed, when Pikalov proposes to measure radiation levels, he quickly seeks his gaze to see if it's a good idea.

Shcherbina still doesn't know what to do, he can't know because it's not his job, he doesn't know anything about radiation and nuclear physics, so Valery has to support and guide him in every way, no matter how brusque and difficult the man is.

_ “I'll be by his side,” _ he thinks.

He promises.

The terror has not subsided, it has just hid, and now that Valery is sitting in the tent, awaiting General Pikalov's return, it returns with full force.

_ "We are dead. We are all dead already, bombarded every moment with thousands of invisible bullets." _

Shcherbina paces nervously back and forth, but there is no fear in his eyes, there is no awareness of death, because even though he's an intelligent man who has understood the metaphor of bullets, he doesn't know what those bullets are capable of doing to a human body.

Again Valery doesn't know what to do: pull him into a corner and tell him, or leave him a few hours of blissful ignorance? Of illusion?

He looks at Bryukhanov and Fomin out of the corner of his eye: they aren't scared either and this Valery just doesn’t understand. They work in the plant, Fomin is a nuclear engineer, they must know.

Is the power of that lie they told themselves so strong? Do they believe it to such an extent?

Pikalov is furious, Boris sees his eyes flashing with anger even before he takes off his protective mask, and a sense of impending tragedy begins to weigh on his chest.

“It's not 3.6 roentgens, it's 15,000,” the general hisses, and if his eyes had the power to shoot people, now Bryukhanov and Fomin would be dead.

Boris isn’t sure what that number means, but it certainly is much higher than 3.6.

His gaze passes over the director of the nuclear power plant as if he doesn't even exist, and turns to Legasov.

The scientist doesn’t hold back, doesn’t sweeten the pill, and with words as cold and sharp as blows of a scalpel, he tells everyone what has happened.

What will happen if they don't stop it.

And they have to stop him.

It’s not just a State imperative.

This is his land, his people.

Boris has to do something.

He wants to do it.

It will be difficult, because he will have to stay within the strict limits established by Moscow: he must not spread panic, everything must be done in silence, almost clandestinely, so that the world doesn’t see that colossal failure.

Pikalov understood this, Legasov didn't, and his prodding for evacuation didn't help the situation, or Boris' pride in the least.

The professor doesn't understand the subtleties of politics, the nuances, he doesn't know that Boris is in charge of the commission but at the same time he isn’t for real, that his hands are tied by an invisible rope that reaches Moscow, that things will be done in a certain way, that not everything can be done.

"I'm in charge here!" he growls, showing his teeth, but it's mostly frustration.

However, now he doesn't have time to explain it to Legasov, he has to get the professor the 5,000 tons of sand and boron he asked for.

"Is there anything we should worry about?" asks the woman sitting at the bar of the hotel.

She is there with her husband, maybe they're celebrating an anniversary or they're just enjoying a nice evening, unaware and happy. They will walk out, go home, breathe that radioactive air, maybe pick vegetables from a garden, which is also radioactive.

They will die, they're already dying, like many people of Pripyat, if they don't leave immediately.

Valery's conscience knows exactly what to do. For a moment he sees himself as he approaches the couple and says,  _ "Pack your bags and run as far as possible from here." _

This would save them.

And shouting the truth from a megaphone through the streets of the sleepy town would save everyone.

But that is not the strategy the State wants, and Valery is not so naive that he doesn’t know, whatever Boris thinks of him.

"No..." he replies with a broken smile, raising his glass in a toast to death.

His stomach is tangled up to the point that he thinks he'll throw up, but then it settles down.

It's not true that the first lie is the most difficult.

It's easy, it's so easy to slip along the path of lies and omission that a new wave of nausea assails him.

He asks for another vodka.

He isn’t a drinker, but now he sees no other way than to get drunk.

Deep down, he knows he'll never be the same again.

With the arrival of Pikalov's men, the hotel is full, so Legasov and Shcherbina have to share the room.

If he were more sober, Valery's natural reserve would make him rebel: he is a loner by nature, not used to sharing living spaces with other people. There are many reasons that have led him to isolate himself, reasons he just doesn't have time to think about now: he's too tired, drunk and scared, so he undresses, throws his clothes on the floor and buries himself under the blankets.

This is how Boris finds him, when he comes back to the hotel after getting the tons of sand and boron. He smacks his lips with disapproval at the mess that Legasov has created in a few hours, and is on the verge of waking him up and giving him a lecture, but there is something terribly vulnerable in the sleeping figure huddled under the covers, which makes him give up.

But that's not all: an absurd desire to protect him is triggered; he knows that if he won't keep the scientist out of trouble, nobody will.

He sighs and rubs his eyes: he's probably just very tired.

Or maybe it's the fault of the radiation: Legasov explained that it does strange things to people.

In the end he just picks up his partner's clothes and places them neatly folded on a chair (just this time and only because he hates mess) and slips silently under the covers.

Before closing his eyes, he looks one last time at the figure sleeping next to him.

Legasov is still an enigma: now Boris knows that the situation is more serious than what he was initially told, Legasov was right about this, but his insistence on evacuating the whole city still seems exaggerated.

Dr. Ilyn said there is no immediate danger for the population, and if a doctor says so... he is right, isn't he?

But when he turns off the light, the look of pure terror that Legasov had on the helicopter returns to his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

April 27th, 1986

Pikalov coordinates the loading of the sandbags from the ground, while Legasov and Shcherbina are on the roof of Building 1 to give directions to the pilots.

Or rather, Valery is explaining why the helicopter cannot fly over the exposed reactor core, but the radio communications soldier doesn’t repeat his instructions.

It's like Valery isn't there.

Before he can open his mouth and vent his anger in the least diplomatic way possible, Comrade Shcherbina gives the soldier an imperceptible nod and orders are carried out.

Unfortunately it’s useless, the helicopter pilot doesn’t hear them, or believes he can perform the maneuver anyway.

Whatever the reason, the helicopter crashes, killing all of its occupants.

In the silence that follows, broken only by the noise of the blades of the other waiting helicopters, the sense of guilt explodes in Valery’s chest: it was he who suggested using the helicopters, this accident is his fault, as is his fault if there will be others in the future, because that crew wasn't supposed to be there, none of them should be there, being bombarded with radiation.

It's his fault.

Shcherbina reads the emotions on Legasov's face with ease; the professor is an open book, a problem that Boris will think about as soon as he has time.

The incident shocked him too, of course, it’s the worst possible start and, being the mission chief, it will be up to him to notify the families of the victims and make those calls he never wanted to make.

But he was a soldier, he was in the war, and he knows that losses, however tragic, are inevitable.

Legasov doesn’t know, he didn’t fathom it, and this truth has just been slammed in his face like a slap.

"Is there another way, Legasov?" he asks.

Boris isn’t really hoping for another solution, he knows that if there was a less risky method to throw those sandbags, the scientist would have proposed it right away. If he asks him it’s to get Legasov out of the state of shock he has fallen into, and when the man sadly shakes his head, Boris hopes that he is the first to understand that no, there is no other way.

They are at war with a powerful and relentless enemy and they simply have to do what needs to be done, however difficult it is.

However, when the scientist walks slowly towards the stairs, Boris doesn’t scold him, doesn’t force him to stay, even if he should, as a member of the commission.

That man needs time to process what happened, and Boris certainly won't deny him.

Valery is exhausted: less than a day has passed since they have been, there and it already seems like an eternity.

In the square in front of the hotel some boys joke and chase each other on the way to school, happy and unaware, and Valery just wants to scream: it's a madness that people are still there. He must find a way to evacuate that city, at the cost of clashing with Shcherbina again and being kicked out of the commission.

It seems incredible to him that no one else understands the extent of the danger.

He has never felt so alone and helpless.

Comrade Shcherbina, who walks into the room with a satisfied smile, only exacerbates his exasperation: there is nothing to smile about, why doesn’t he understand it?

Valery has a scream of anger, terror and frustration deep in his throat, and he feels, he knows he's about to explode.

Boris has realized that the helicopter crash has shaken Legasov badly: his comrade needs to hear good news to cheer up his spirits, and he is sure that knowing that the launch of sand and boron bags is going on without a hitch will make him feel better.

It’s with this spirit that he enters the room, but his enthusiasm is immediately dampened by Legasov's apathetic reaction... they are making progress, why isn’t he happy to know that the work is going well?

"What?" he barks.

"There are 50,000 people here in Pripyat."

Boris sighs heavily: the scientist is still thinking about the evacuation, although he has made it clear to him that this isn’t the will of Moscow. Furthermore, Ilyin said that there is no danger, they themselves are there and they are fine, so he doesn’t understand why the scientist is still insisting.

"We are here," he points out, in an attempt to reason with him.

"Yes, we are, and we will be dead in five years!" Legasov shouts, with the same ruthlessness with which he told Gorbachev that the core was exposed, with which he explained what 15,000 roentgen means.

Once again Legasov is telling the truth.

When he was at war, a grenade exploded not far from Boris. The scariest thing wasn’t the explosion itself, the lightning or the shock wave. It was the ringing in the ears that drowned out all other sounds.

Legasov's words had the same effect as a grenade.

Five years.

They will be dead in five years.

Boris hears nothing else, not the apologies (for what, then?) that the scientist gives him, not the people walking in the corridor, not the boys who shout in the square in front of the hotel.

Nothing, just those words.

_ "We will be dead in five years." _

All his plans, the hopes for his political career, those of a quiet retirement, perhaps in Kiev where he hasn't been back for a long time, everything burns and vaporizes in an instant, like the fuel of that damned reactor.

Five years.

He collapses into an armchair and for a few minutes doesn't even react to the ringing phone.

One look at Boris' shocked face is enough for Valery to regret his words.

Valery is aware that they will die ever since the helicopter landed on that poisoned land, but the statesman wasn’t. It was fair that he knew, Valery was looking for a way to tell him from the night before, but he shouldn't have been so brutal. He was unnecessarily cruel, didn't help him, he just vented his frustration on Boris for the non evacuation.

And now he doesn't know what to say to fix it, but apparently Comrade Shcherbina doesn't need help: he recovers himself from the torpor he fell into, listens carefully to the phone call, and then tells him that the world knows what happened.

_ "Of course the world knows: did you really think you could hide a nuclear disaster of this magnitude?" _ Valery thinks with hatred, but this time he holds his tongue, because Boris has nothing to do with the cover-up wanted by Moscow, he must stop blaming him.

“They are not letting the children out to play. In Frankfurt,” Boris says again, and there is a note of pained astonishment in his voice.

Frankfurt, West Germany. Half a continent away, another world, yet the Germans consider the radiation dangerous enough to keep children indoors.

He realizes that Legasov is right about everything: he is right to be terrified, he is right to worry about the lives of the citizens of Pripyat, he is right to be angry about the city not being evacuated.

Now Boris better understands the man in front of him and his deep frustration: the scientist is the only one who understands the enormity of what they're going through, or maybe the only one who cares.

No... not the only one, he also cares. If he hasn’t proved it so far, it’s only because he was genuinely convinced that the situation was under control, because he believed the voice of the State. But apparently it wasn’t the voice to listen to, the right voice was there beside him and it screamed from the first moment to be heard.

Now Boris will listen to Legasov.

He looks down at the kids in the square, then takes the phone: this time in Moscow the central committee will have to listen to them.

The evacuation is surprisingly fast: in a few hours buses arrive from all over Ukraine, the inhabitants of the town pack a minimum luggage and the army goes from house to house to check that everyone is respecting the order, police cars drive around the city, repeating the recorded message incessantly.

On the roof of one of the tallest buildings, Boris and Valery observe the scene.

When the wind brings with it a portion of the recording over there, Valery shakes his head.

"What?" Boris asks, and if Valery were more attentive and less angry, he would notice that his voice is strangely flat and has lost its usual pugnacious tone.

"Temporary... This evacuation is everything but temporary! None of them will live here again. Don't you think they have the right to know?"

Once again Boris is amazed by the extreme ingenuity of the man beside him.

Yes, in an ideal world one could always tell the truth and everyone would accept it, but an ideal world exists only in a test tube, in the enclosure of a laboratory. This is the real world, it's very different, and yet Legasov doesn't seem to understand.

“These people are abandoning their homes forever,” says the statesman slowly, staring at the horizon, “the furniture bought with their life savings, memories and family heirlooms, photographs, letters... the children are abandoning their bicycles, toys, even their pets. If we had said that this is forever, no one would have wanted to leave, and then, would you have gone down to the street to quell the riots?"

Valery lowers his eyes, mortified: so focused on the core of the problem, he didn't have an overall view of it. If, out of the blue, he was told that he must abandon his apartment and his beloved cat, how would he react? Not good, that's for sure.

He bites his lip and bows his head, “Sorry… I’m sorry, you're right. I just don't know how to talk to people.”

"Yes, I noticed," Boris observes with a hint of sarcasm, arching an eyebrow.

Valery sighs, "And about what I said before, the way I told you... I'm sorry, again. I shouldn't have, not like that."

"Not like that," Boris agrees, "but luckily for you I can accept the truth."

He takes a few steps away and Valery lets him go: the man probably needs to be alone with his thoughts, and he wouldn’t certainly help him, with his tactlessness.

He returns to observe the evacuation, relieved at the sight of the buses departing along the main road, carrying the inhabitants of Pripyat in a less irradiated place than that. He wholeheartedly hopes they've avoided long-term consequences for most of them.

The shadows are getting longer, the day is about to end; Valery turns to leave the roof and go back to the hotel, and notices that Boris hasn’t left, he has been sitting on a ventilation grille, looking at the city, in the direction of the amusement park. Valery heard some soldiers talking about it: it was to be inaugurated in days.

He stops next to Boris, but he doesn't know how to break the silence. Not only he isn’t good at talking to people, he isn’t good at consoling, he isn’t good with human relationships in general, as his solitary life witnesses.

Relationships are too complicated, unpredictable, often painful… yet Boris deserves a word of comfort from him.

"It's a beautiful city." In the end it is Boris who speaks, "Everything is new, there are many shops, parks for children, there is even a swimming pool. And have you seen the gardens?"

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” Valery agrees.

“We were all proud of it,” Boris whispers, and it's like he's talking about a dear friend who passed away.

However, before Valery has time to ask him if he is feeling well, the statesman speaks again, "We have to do a briefing, right?"

"Ah, yes... but..."

"Let’s go then."

The hotel lounge is also beautiful.

Valery laid out on a table a map of the territory and he’s talking, but Boris isn’t really listening.

He learned that a couple held their wedding dinner there just the day before.

Just the day before, nearly fifty thousand people were living their lives and planning their future. How many of them will have a future?

_ Five years... _

The scientist continues to talk about surveys and tests that must be done, and Boris wonders if he has really accepted death so serenely, or if he has just relegated it to a corner of his mind.

In any case, he envies him a little.

"Are you okay?" Valery asks hesitantly: he must have realized that his mind was elsewhere.

"'course I am!" he replies curtly. His melancholy ruminations are a very small thing compared to the immensity of the problem they are facing. And Legasov doesn't have to worry about that too.

Valery looks down at the map, but hesitates: just because Boris said he's fine, this is not necessarily true.

"Are you sure? Listen…"

But he doesn't have time to say anything, because Pikalov interrupts them.

He is accompanied by a woman with a serious and very fiery gaze.

"Ulana Jurivna Khomyuk."


	3. Chapter 3

Ulana speaks of the incident as if she was there when it happened, and Valery cannot help but be deeply admired by her intelligence. He is also relieved that someone has come to his rescue: there are too many variables to consider, too many problems to evaluate, alone he can’t manage to keep everything under control, he needed the help and the rational and focused mind of another scientist.

But there is no time for pleasantries between colleagues, because what Ulana reveals shortly afterwards terrifies him, like when he read about the graphite on the ground.

The tanks are full of water.

They are sitting on a bomb, another one, ready to detonate.

Boris looks at him, bewildered, asking him with his eyes what else is going on.

Valery explains it briefly, then takes a chair for Ulana, and together they look for a solution to the new imminent danger; they discuss and examine the plans of the reactor from all angles, while cups of tea and cigarette butts pile up on the table, but in the end they must surrender to the evidence: three men will have to go inside the building to open the valve and empty the tanks.

"But you said the water is contaminated," Boris intervenes for the first time in their discussion.

"Extremely, yes," Ulana confirms, nervously tapping her foot against the polished floor. She is buzzing with impatience for the order to be given as soon as possible: they don't have much time before the irreparable happens, they can't get lost in useless discussions.

“So those men will die,” Boris says. It’s not a question, he has already understood.

Valery nods sadly: it's a terrible decision, but it has to be made.

What's worse, the scientist knows it won't be the last.

Boris gets up and walks wearily out of the room.

"Get ready, I'll call a helicopter: let's go to Moscow, we need higher authorization for this."

"If nothing else, he is efficient," Ulana comments as she collects the papers once Boris is out. It’s clear that she doesn’t have a great opinion of the politician, and Valery would like to tell her that she is wrong, he too was wrong, Boris is different.

But there is no time.

As the helicopter lifts off the ground, Valery feels like a dead leaf fallen into a river, helpless and at the mercy of the flow. They’re gasping and acting haphazardly, not knowing if it will really help. There is no precedent to this emergency, they have no data that can help them: a step in the wrong direction and it could be the end not only for their nation, but for the whole of Europe.

While Ulana continues to work on the data, showing an enviable cold blood, Valery is lost in the meanders of his mind, in his anguish; he raises his eyes to Boris, but also the statesman seems to be elsewhere with his mind: the new report of the incident lies open on the table in front of him, but he isn’t looking at it.

He is no longer the same chill, bold man who sat in the Kremlin meeting room the day before, he has changed.

_ “A death sentence has this effect,” _ Valery muses bitterly.

Like on the roof, while they were watching the evacuation, he doesn’t know how to behave. Should he console Shcherbina? Offer him a few words of comfort? Valery doesn't know if there are words, and in any case he doesn't know them.

"Boris..." he begins in a whisper, so faint that he doesn't know if the other has heard it.

"I was wrong," Boris says suddenly, but Valery just blinks… what?

Boris closes the report and pushes it toward Valery, “I have no idea how a nuclear reactor works and... I need you. Can you be the one speaking, at the meeting?"

"Sure!" Valery exclaims, placing a hand on the report. If he can't offer him consolation, then he'll give him his support. For a moment he is tempted to stretch the hand a few more inches and touch Boris', but it would be totally inappropriate.

He bites his lip: what the hell is he thinking?

Valery expected to find a completely different mood at the meeting. He expected people who had finally understood the gravity of the situation, not that... ill-concealed hostility.

Incredibly, and really Valery can hardly believe it, the General Secretary is only concerned with the political aspect of the disaster, having to justify himself with enemies and allies, rather than being invested in what is about to happen, and the scientist certainly doesn’t miss the veiled accusatory tone with which he addresses Boris, as if the bad news were his fault.

_ "It's unbelievable," _ Valery thinks,  _ "it's like blaming the doctor who found out that the patient is sick." _

Therefore, when he speaks, he goes to great lengths to focus the attention on himself and make them understand the true extent of the disaster, including the fact that they will have to sentence three men to death.

At that point Boris scolds him with a silent look, but Valery frowns without understanding.

Finally, permission is given, orders are out, and again Boris and Valery are left alone in the room.

The mood between them, however, is very different from the first time: the statesman no longer seems to want to kill him with his eyes. Now they are on the same side, allies in that impossible war, alone against the rest of the world.

Boris taps his pen on the file, hunched over the table.

Again Valery is about to ask him if he is okay, when Boris straightens his back, takes a deep breath, as if to give himself courage, and suddenly seems to be the same as always.

"Come on," he exclaims, "the helicopter awaits us, we must return to Chernobyl as soon as possible."

"Ah... yes, of course... just a moment," stammers the scientist, taken aback by the sudden change of his comrade, and hurries to gather the papers scattered in front of him.

"But anyway," continues Boris, lowering his voice, while giving him a hand, "was it really necessary to correct the General Secretary in front of everyone?"

"Well," Valery replies with all the innocence of this world, "There are sixty million people in Ukraine."

Boris freezes and gives him a look and a smile that Valery has never seen: there is indulgence and affection in his eyes, which momentarily destabilizes him, making him drop some papers to the floor. He just doesn’t understand why Boris is looking at him like this.

It’s not unpleasant, however. Indeed it’s a significant step forward compared to the fiery looks that the statesman gave him during the first meeting.

It’s up to Valery to explain to the plant workers the way to open the valve that will empty the tanks; he knows that breaking into the reactor building is tantamount to a death sentence, but he is sure that using logical and rational arguments he will convince them.

He is wrong.

Even the promise of a pay raise or promotion doesn't move the men sitting in front of him. No one gets up and someone openly disputes and complaints.

Valery hadn’t foreseen that and doesn’t know how else to convince them; he searches for the right words within himself, but can’t find anything. He gasps. He has no idea what else to do or say.

“You will do it because it has to be done,” Boris says, slowly rising from his chair.

He speaks in Ukrainian.

He speaks of anger, injustice, suffering and spirit of sacrifice.

He speaks straight to these people's hearts, not to their minds, and in short, three volunteers come forward.

Valery looks at Boris in admiration: he would never have been able to find the right words.

Boris gives him a brief nod of agreement, then leaves with the three volunteers.

Arriving in Pripyat Valery promised himself that he would support and help Boris in every way, but it seems that it is mutual.

Pikalov asked Valery for help in choosing the protections and equipment for the three divers, so that they can carry out that task as quickly as possible, and also to offer them a minimum of protection.

Valery knows that it will not be enough, and the General also knows: they are really sending three men to death and the scientist's stomach twists in horror.

"Comrade, are you okay?" the General asks, placing a hand on his arm, "You're pale."

"I…"

Pikalov squeezes his arm, trying to reassure him, "Come on, I know it's hard, but the boys have to get ready."

"Yes…"

The two men join the divers outside the reactor.

Boris is talking to them, again in Ukrainian. He asks them where they are from, he lights up when they mention places he also knows.

He cares about them, and it shows.

Valery is not surprised that they listened to Shcherbina and not to him.

Once the three volunteers have entered the reactor building, they can only wait. 

Pikalov doesn't hide his nervousness as he paces back and forth in front of the heavy metal door, while Valery and Boris wait sitting in a jeep. Not that there is less radiation there, but at least they don't breathe dust and can take off their masks.

A dark and heavy silence hangs over them.

Boris is the first to break it, asking the obvious.

"Could the radiation have already killed them?"

Valery nods heavily: sure, it’s a possibility.

"What do we do in that case?"

Valery expected this question as well: they are there to solve the disaster, he is the reactor expert, so he is expected to have all the answers and solutions, but Valery doesn’t have them, not immediately. He really doesn’t know what to do if the three divers failed: they probably couldn't do anything but send three more men, hoping for a different outcome.

“Okay,” Boris continues, “One step at a time, one problem at a time. After all, we are dealing with something that has never occurred on this planet before."

He quotes Valery's exact words, but there is no mocking intent in his voice, which instead is calm and reassuring.

"Indeed."

"And... I owe you an apology."

Valery widens his eyes: he didn’t think he would ever hear a man so proud apologize.

"I wasn’t myself during the last meeting in the Kremlin, I left everything on your shoulders, I shouldn't have."

Valery waves a hand in the air, "You have received shocking news: you have the right to feel lost. And anyway, it's not true that I did everything: if it wasn't for your speech, no one would have come forward for this task."

"Did you understand what I said?"

"Yes."

"I didn't know you speak Ukrainian."

"Not perfectly, but enough to understand: I have many Ukrainian collaborators at the Kurchatov Institute, I learned something."

"It's a rare attitude."

Valery shrugs, not knowing what to say, embarrassed by the compliment.

Someone knocks from inside the iron door; the soldiers hurry to open and Valery and Boris get out of the jeep.

The three divers emerge victorious and everyone applauds them, only Valery remains motionless.

“Get them examined by a doctor as soon as possible and get them away from here. This place is too irradiated for them."

"I will," assures Boris, and Valery looks at him with gratitude, he knows he will, he can trust him.

Valery and Boris seem to have found a good working understanding and most of the time it’s true, until an order arrives from Moscow that sends the scientist into a rage.

On the one hand Boris understands him, more than Valery thinks: it makes no sense that the exclusion zone is so small, but the evacuation of the city has had too much resonance, people in the Kremling are annoyed, and the central committee doesn’t want other sensational initiatives: there are orders, directives, invisible but solid boundaries dictated by political reasons. 

The statesman has often wondered in those days if Legasov is really so naive as not to understand this.

Hard as it is to believe, it seems so.

In fact, Valery doesn’t tone down his opinion on politics and bureaucrats and keeps talking aloud, pugnaciously. Even outdoors, heedless of people around him, of the ears that might be listening, of the fate that might await him, if the irritation towards him grows too much.

Fortunately for him, this time only Pikalov is listening to them; Boris suspects that the General doesn’t have a more flattering opinion about bureaucrats, but he is shrewd and knows how to keep it to himself.

Valery instead continues to be a loose cannon. Perhaps he is really unaware of how things work, perhaps the anger at the accident completely overwhelms his common sense, and for this Boris can’t really blame him, but he feels that it’s his duty to intervene to protect him.

After all, when you see a child playing with a knife, you take it out of their hands.

"I am a career Party man," he blurts out brusquely, "You should mind your tone, comrade Legasov.”

Valery looks mortified, thinking he has offended him, but Boris' words were mainly a suggestion to safeguard him, and he hopes that Valery catches it.

Then, when it seemed impossible for the situation to get any worse, the scientist announces, "The meltdown has begun."


	4. Chapter 4

The terrible picture painted by Valery, the radioactive pollution of the aquifer of the entire region, is getting closer and closer with the beginning of the meltdown.

The scientist has a plan to avoid the catastrophe, but they must act quickly.

Boris sees how agitated Valery is, which is why he allows him to listen to his phone call with Gorbachev, to reassure him that everyone will make every possible effort.

He makes him promise that he will just listen, without saying a word, and Valery nods, but when Boris is about to hang up, he chimes in to challenge the extent of the exclusion zone, again.

Behind that mild appearance, Valery is like a fighting dog, one of those who lock their jaws around the target and never let it go.

Boris isn't surprised that he broke his promise, but if he keeps on acting like this, Valery won't last a week. And there will be no need for the KGB to load him into a car and make him disappear who knows where, if he rants against the party’s General Secretary. Gorbachev himself will kick him out of the commission.

Right now Boris would like to strangle him for his naivety.

Valery must understand.

He has to make him understand.

"I think you and I should take a walk."

“I'm tired,” Valery replies, shaking his head, but this time Boris won't give up. He can be as stubborn and even more than him.

“We’re taking a walk,” he says firmly, and this time not even Valery can object.

Boris brings with him some sausages from the hotel kitchen and walks along the main avenue.

Soon some dogs gather around them, barking loudly for food.

Just the cover Boris was looking for.

“You shouldn't feed them,” Valery interjects, “They stayed here and now they're heavily radioactive. They will have to be shot down."

"I know."

"Then why are you doing it?"

"Even if they must die, it doesn’t mean that they have to be also miserable and hungry until the last moment. They have already been abandoned by their owners, denying them food is cruel and useless,” says the statesman, kneeling down to pet a little dog that is only a few months old.

Valery looks at him in amazement, incredulous at the image of a man so brusque and irritable who gently strokes a dog's head.

"Don't be afraid, they are all domestic dogs, they don't bite."

After a few moments he also kneels, stroking a dog in turn, and promising himself to bring them something to eat in the following days.

Then they resume walking in silence, with Boris throwing pieces of sausage behind them.

They have gone a long way from the hotel and Valery still doesn’t understand what the purpose of the walk is, because there is no doubt that Boris has a purpose, there was much more behind his request to go out.

"Do you want an apology for the things I said to Gorbachev?"

To tell the truth, it’s Boris the one who deserves an apology: Valery had promised him that he wouldn’t speak during the phone call, but he did, and Gorbachev was really annoyed.

Boris has the right to be angry with him and demand an apology.

But he doesn't.

"What will happen to our boys?" he asks instead.

"The divers?"

“The divers, the soldiers, all the people who will be involved. Us."

And Valery does it, with scientific precision he describes the terrible effects of the radiation that are already affecting the personnel of the plant, and also the effects, less terrible but no less fatal, that will affect them in a few years.

Boris is grateful to him for that raw and relentless sincerity. He realizes that, in his world, he has always lived surrounded by people who fear the truth, while Valery knows how to embrace even the most painful aspects of it.

He admires him, he has never admired anyone as much as Valery, which is why he will protect him and not allow anything to happen to him.

"Well. In a sense, it would seem we've gotten off easily, then... Valery."

_ Valery. _

It’s the first time that Boris uses his name, as a close friend would do.

Valery looks up at him, amazed: does the statesman consider him a friend? Is he on his side, despite the fact that he has embarrassed him seriously with the General Secretary?

_ "What are you trying to tell me, Boris?" _

Boris' lips lift in a barely perceptible smile, then the man tilts his head and Valery turns in that direction: not too far from them is the couple the scientist met at the hotel bar, the same people to whom he was about to confess the truth about the explosion.

KGB, Boris explains bluntly: they got there to keep communications, dialogues, reports under control. Everything.

Valery's knees tremble, thinking about that night: he liked that couple, who seemed so normal and harmless, he felt guilty for not telling them the truth. Instead he seriously risked being dragged in a labor camp, or worse.

When Boris resumes walking towards the hotel, Valery moves with him: he doesn’t want to be left behind with the KGB agents.

"Now you understand why I wanted to take a walk."

To show him the risks that Valery runs, if he continues to speak out aloud, without caring about the consequences. The statesman could have left him to those lions, given how Valery behaved with him, but he didn't.

Boris is on his side, despite everything.

"I..." Valery licks his lips and looks at him. He has a lot of confusion in his head and can’t articulate his thoughts. “Thanks,” he finally whispers.

“Warn also comrade Khomyuk. I'll wait for you upstairs."

Ulana is doing some calculations, sitting at the bar. Although Valery’s major concern is to stem the aftermath of the explosion, part of his scientist brain has not stopped wondering why all this happened.

True, their plants are less safe than Western ones, but that explosion seems like a scientific impossibility: even taking the worst possible scenario into consideration, it shouldn't have happened.

There is something that escapes them, a precious and fundamental element, and to solve the enigma, to prevent the tragedy from happening elsewhere, Ulana needs to deal with the problem entirely. He wouldn’t be able to devote the right concentration to it, oppressed as he is by the problems there on the site.

Plus, he's happy to get his colleague away from such a radioactive place. She will be safe, away from Chernobyl.

After giving her the name of some colleagues from the Kurchatov Institute who will be able to help her, he wishes her a good trip and takes the elevator to go to his room.

A noise in the hallway makes him jump and whirl around, but it's just the creak of an old locker.

He clenches his fists, tired, scared and even terribly angry: with all the problems, worries, guilt for the people who have died and the others who will die, he just needed to watch his back from the KGB.

For a moment he is about to scream like a madman. He doesn't know if he can handle it all, it's too much.

His anguish is clear on his face when he opens the door, to the point that Boris gets up from the table, where he was signing documents, and approaches him with a worried face.

"What is it, comrade?"

"I ..." Valery gasps, but he can't speak, it’s like there is not enough air in the room.

Boris clearly sees that the scientist is on the verge of collapsing, and it’s instinctive for him to reach out to Valery.

What happens next is surprising for only a brief moment, then it isn't anymore. Then it becomes right.

Valery can't say who started first, who moved towards whom, but they are kissing passionately.

Boris' lips on his are like fire.

But at least they don't burn like radiation.

Boris' mouth tastes like vodka.

But at least doesn't taste like metal and fear.

Boris' skin is imbued with the smell of the day's fatigue.

But at least it's not the acrid smell of that damned fire.

Boris' hands are rough on his body.

But at least they're not like invisible bullets.

Valery's heart is beating wildly, but not with terror.

In the silence of the room, the rustle of clothes, the broken breaths, the lips that part and then meet again are frighteningly noisy.

When Boris bows his head to catch his breath and takes a step back, Valery instinctively grabs the cuff of his shirt between thumb and forefinger.

_ Don't let me go, don't let me go. _

He feels that if Boris lets him go, he will collapse, he feels that if Boris pulls his arm away and forcefully denies what just happened, he will fall apart.

There is only that small portion of white cotton between thumb and forefinger to keep him grounded to sanity. That, and the taste of Boris' mouth, which still hovers on his tongue.

They are two tightrope walkers who have crossed their path on the same rope and, if they want to survive, they must learn to dance together.

Boris could tell Valery and himself that it was a mistake, a moment of madness, but that would be a lie, and Valery doesn't deserve a lie.

Neither of them deserves it.

The truth is that in this gigantic, unstoppable madness, this kiss is the only thing that makes sense.

Those whitening fingers around the fabric of his cuff are a silent plea for help, and Boris won't ignore it, won't leave Valery alone.

Not for the mission, right now it’s the least of his thoughts, but for Valery.

And also for himself.

Boris needs this as much as Valery.

The same feeling that prompted him to take the side of that brave, naive scientist, now moves Boris to bring his lips back to Valery's, surprisingly soft and full to belong to a man and, for the first time since he has known him, no longer bent down in a grimace of despair.

He gently strokes his cheek with his thumb, then takes his hand, pulling him slightly in the direction of the bed, begging him with his eyes not to make a sound.

And Valery follows him. He would follow him everywhere right now, even if Boris opened the window and asked him to walk in midair with him. He would, because the trust he has in him is total.

Boris didn’t let it go, didn’t let him fall, he prevented Valery from crashing to the ground and breaking into a thousand pieces.

Boris is there, he is there with him.

However, he has no idea what will happen now, when they stop at the foot of the large bed they have shared for a few days, stunned and overwhelmed by emotions.

He slowly blinks behind his glasses and looks at him hesitantly.

"You seem a bit tense, comrade," he hears him say in a colloquial tone, "Let's listen to the radio, it will calm you down."

There are only classical music programs, at that time of night, and in a way it's relaxing, but Valery still doesn't understand.

Then Boris takes off his glasses and puts a finger on his lips before kissing them again.

_ “Not a sound, Valery. Can you do it?" _ it’s Boris' silent request, and it’s strange, because Valery understands it, as if he had spoken loudly and clearly.

He clings to his shoulders and brings his lips back to him.

_ "I can do it. I can do anything if you're with me." _

He holds his breath when he feels Boris' fingers undo the buttons of his shirt, then imitates him, undresses him and lets himself be undressed.

He is tempted to look away, embarrassed by the nudity, by the intimacy of the moment, by the fact that he is with a man, but Boris knows how to completely catalyze his attention, simply by touching his chin with a finger, so Valery looks at him and lets himself be watched.

Two men no longer young, condemned to death, bodies marked by scars and signs of age, but still eager to live, to feel, to love. Boris is hard and aroused, and so is he, and not for a moment the thought that they are two men and that this is wrong does it occur to him.

"Beautiful," is the only word that surfaces on Valery's lips as he rests his palms on Boris’ chest and stomach, his only thought. He slides them down, along the protruding abdomen and grabs his cock, that twitches in his palm.

Boris closes his eyes and his thighs tremble.

When Valery's other hand massages his balls, desire inflames Boris' eyes, who pushes him onto the bed, covers him with his body, pulls the blankets over their heads, isolating them in a small, silent, dark bubble, where everything seems possible, even being happy.

In spite of everything.

When Boris lies down on him and kisses him, Valery is happy.

He opens his legs for him, closes his eyes and savors the sensation of wet mouths, skin on skin, Boris' hard, hot cock sliding over him.

The growing pleasure threatens to make him scream, but Boris' mouth never leaves his, drinking groans, whispers, and broken breaths.

He clings to his strong shoulders, while Boris moves relentlessly on him, gasps and whispers something on his lips, in Ukrainian, but Valery is too high to understand; he can only kiss him again and slide a hand between their bodies, stroking the tip of their erections.

Boris hisses and exhales a curse that makes Valery strangely proud, then moves his hand down, covering Valery's, and the orgasm wipes out all his thoughts.

Boris lies on top of him until he catches his breath, then gets up, disappearing into the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower.

Valery remains on the bed, dazed and tired, letting himself be lulled by the music from the still on radio, by the smell of sex and by the warmth of Boris who still lingers under the covers.

Boris emerges from the bathroom still completely naked, calm and at ease, and gestures to Valery, who shakes his head: he doesn't have the strength to get up, and above all he doesn't want to leave that bubble, not yet. He needs to stay that way.

Boris doesn't say anything, but wipes him with damp toilet paper, then turns off the radio and the light, goes back under the covers and hugs Valery.

“Mine,” he mutters before falling asleep, and Valery barely nods in the dark.


End file.
